The Hunt
by Rallen.Blint
Summary: Harry and Ron are dead, the Order is in shambles. Hermione is a trophy to the Malfoys... but not for long. A tale of love and revenge, of strength and determination - but most of all, the power of knowledge. HGSS, AU, Dark content and Lemons in later chapters. R&R!


((A.N) Hello there everyone! This is my first fic, but I've been writing for almost a decade now the Role-Playing, and I just got the urge to write something in which Hermione is a badass. It seems I've read all of the stories in my favourite pairing in which she is. I read far too much fanfiction. :P

I've been reading Fanfiction for years now, and SSHG is one of my favourite pairings of all time. I hope you enjoy it! All reviews will be appreciated, even the critical ones. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way. If I did, it would have ended very differently. It would probably also have been a lot darker. :P

Enjoy! 3 )

Hermione Granger was more than likely the best Legilimens ever to exist. After Harry's abysmal performance with Snape, she had decided to try and learn – what Harry has said was – the impossible. It was a challenge of the mind, and to Hermione, such challenges were her life blood, her raison d'etre. The rush that accompanied solving a mental puzzle, or learning a particularly complicated spell was her sport. Others took to the skies and spiked their adrenaline with Quidditch, something she considered a useless practice. Hermione was a champion of the mind.

Her touch on Severus Snape's mind was so soft, so gentle that he simply thought it was his own mind bringing up memories and images. No matter how he tried to focus himself, his mind kept 'drifting'. To be able to fool the man that hid his mind from the _supposedly_most accomplished Legilimens in the world... well it was an achievement. Hermione didn't see it that way, though. She doubted the 'great' Voldermort was ever gentle, simply forcing his way in with brute strength.

Hermione had raw power in multitudes, but she understood that a subtle touch was often more beneficial than force. In fact, it was the man who's mind she was pillaging at that very moment who had taught her that.

_'There!' _She had found it, the information she'd been looking for. Hermione had been right in her suspicions. Severus Snape was a traitor.

A traitor to the Dark Lord.

Her concealed gaze shifted to somewhere else, before he noticed. Her posture was submissive and afraid as she sat in the lounge of the Malfoy Manner, dressed in finery – kept as a trophy for the Malfoy Heir. Little did they know she had been pillaging their minds for the last year of her captivity, the minds of everyone who came to this heinous manor.

A year she had spent, bending to the whims of her captors as her inner self roared and snarled in her heart. A year since she had been allowed touch a book, let alone read one. A year of degrading acts, of silence and punishments. A year since she had owned a wand. A year since Harry Potter and Ronald Weasely had died.

But oh, _oh_ the had been so careless. If she'd had books, maybe she would have been distracted. Instead their minds became her books, their memories her pages and their knowledge became hers.  
Every spell they knew, she knew. Every curse, enchantment, secret, lie, _everything_. It had been her only entertainment, her only salvation. Knowledge was power – and she was ripe with it.

Of course, they never saw this – no she was too intelligent for that. Hermione had kept her knowledge of Legilimency a secret from all but Harry and Ron. Her lust for knowledge had pushed her further, though, her logical mind the perfect tool not only for Legilimency, but Occlumency too. To say she was good at Occlumency was to say she was a beginner at it's counterpart. Layers upon layers fortified her mind, false memories, ripe with emotion as real as anything she had ever felt protected her. Barriers of steel and bone, ice and fire, her mind was a fortress. After all, Knowledge was power, and she would **not**share hers.

She had waited for this moment, waited to find someone who _knew_. The location of the Order, or what remained of it. Her sanctuary, the key to her escape. She had trained and trained, so very hard, so very silently. A feral pleasure blossomed in her chest as she sat there, pretending to listen to Snape and Malfoy junior's conversation. It wasn't necessary after all, she was a decoration, nothing more. It was finally time.

They would see what a 'Mudblood' was capable of. The lioness was going to have her revenge. They were fools to believe they had ever broken her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

She waited until Snape had left and the Malfoys had retired for the night before pulling memories of her up in the younger Malfoy's mind. She watched through hooded eyes, hidden by her eyelashes as his own darkened with lust. His expression turned into a cruel sneer, his eyes ravaged her body before he commanded her to his bed.

She submitted without question, she had realised quickly if they thought her broken, they wouldn't suspect her. Not a shred of defiance had escaped her the last eight months. Yes, she cried, that was allowed – no _relished_. Her acting skills had been honed and perfected, though. Real tears hadn't left her eyes since she had grasped the concept of revenge, the last hope of a drowning woman.

They were not worth her tears, anyway.

He threw her onto the bed, silken green covers soft against her fair skin. A quick spell rid her of her clothes before he hastily discarded his own. Her whimpers seemed to excite him – though fake. His voice crooned at her, mocking her. Hermione would have laughed at him, had she not been playing her part. Him? Mocking _her_? He was pathetic.

He put down his wand before turning to her again. His expression of cruelty and lust changed to confusion as he saw her again. She couldn't contain it any more, a feral grin stretched across her face.  
"Avada Kedava" She whispered, hand outstretched towards him. The green bolt hit him before he could utter a sound. His body crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Triumph flared in her heart and she grabbed his wand. It wouldn't be perfect, but she was safer with it. It would obey her, she had after all defeated it's owner – claiming it as her own.

She transfigured some of the clothes in the wardrobe to fit her – tight, black. Clothes she could move in, fight in and hide in. Not to mistake her intention, though. She was a predator, stalking her prey – they would die before the night was out.

It was funny, really, how purebloods didn't realise that wards couldn't tell the difference between a muggle-born and a pureblood. She had long realised that it was because there was no difference – they were simply to bigoted and racist to realise. Luckily, that worked to her advantage. Idiots, the lot of them.

Hermione placed her hand against the wall of the room and whispered an incantation – she had siphoned it straight from Malfoy senior's mind. The wards were now hers to do what she wished, every door would open at her command, the manor was _hers_now.

She crept out of the room into the dark halfway, wand clutched in her hand, eyes darting and adjusting to the darkness. Silently, she started towards the master bedroom. Her heart beat against her chest, determination fuelling her, quelling her fears. They would _die_tonight. She would be free.

The minutes passed and she reached the door to the room. Casting a silent disillusion spell on herself and a silencing spell on her body, she commanded the door to open. She slipped in through the crack and left it open. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were sleeping peacefully in the bed, their platinum locks fanned out around them.

With a whisper she cast the killing curse at Narcissa first, the eerie light brightening the room. Lucius woke with a start, looking her way with wide eyes.  
"_MUDBLOO-_" He never ever finished the word as a second green light emitted from her wand, striking him in the chest and sending him falling back onto the bed. Had his eyes not been open and their chests still, they could have both been still sleeping.

Adrenalin fuelled Hermione as she stole their wands – both hers now. With a satisfied grin, she apparated out of the despicable manor and towards the Order's headquarters.

She was _free._

((A.N) Phew! Kinda' just spewed all that out. I have a rough idea of the story, let's just hope I don't get distracted by starting new projects and not finishing them either! Reviews might help that, as they're little reminders that people give a damn. I have a feeling it'll make me not want to disappoint. Hope you liked it, would love if you reviewed! Pointers on writing happily received, if not always incorporated! Thanks for your time.

Love,

Lady Rallen 3)


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